


heart strings

by copperwings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, But Also Fun, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, I hope, M/M, Mutual Pining, Orchestra, Otabek plays bass, Yuri plays violin, it's going to be wildly inaccurate, look I know nothing of orchestra stuff so, musical genius Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 17:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15442668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperwings/pseuds/copperwings
Summary: Lilia sets the baton down and glances at the door. “Ah, everyone. Please welcome our addition to the first violins.”Everyone shuffles in their seats to look at the door. A young man leans on the wall beside the door, a violin case hanging from his fingers. If it wasn’t for the violin case he’d look like a roadie for a rock band, with his ripped black jeans, hoodie and his blond hair a tousled mess. He pushes his hair off his face with his free hand as Lilia speaks up, but he doesn’t look directly at anyone.Otabek’s mind makes the connection and helpfully supplies a name for the face before Lilia says it out loud.Yuri Plisetsky.





	heart strings

**Author's Note:**

> [egnitedf0x](https://egnitedf0x.tumblr.com/) won my follower giveaway ~~many, many months ago~~ and requested Otayuri + orchestra AU. The prize was at least a 1,000 words, so of course I wrote over 10,000...  
>  -  
> As stated in the tags, I know nothing about orchestras, so this is the based on some haphazard research, sprinkled with some random knowledge I have gained singing in a choir plus a whole lot of my imagination, so don't @ me if this isn't accurate (I tried my best).

Conductor Lilia Baranovskaya’s hand slashes down in a whipping motion and the music dies. Her baton cuts the air, pointed at the violas like a sword.

“No! No, _violas_ , you are consistently half a beat behind in the chorus. The tempo accelerates in the bar before the chorus, as marked on your sheet music _,_ so you need to _look at me_ during the transition—”

Otabek lets his bow drop to his side and shifts his bass between his legs to a resting position. Once Lilia gets started, there’s no telling how long she’s going to yell at the violas for lagging.

“Lilia is scary,” Leo whispers, shifting in his seat next to Otabek. “Sara looks like she might cry.”

Otabek looks at the violas. The players are cowering in their seats and one of the girls, Sara, is looking down to her lap and blinking rapidly. The guy beside her looks like he’s measuring the distance to the door in case he needs to make a run for it.

In the concertmaster’s chair, Victor Nikiforov hangs his violin from his fingers and looks like he wants to be a million miles away, probably in Japan, and everyone knows why. He can’t wait to be with his boyfriend.

Lilia sighs and then places her baton on the stand before her. She pinches the bridge of her nose with a scornful look on her face. “Everyone, take five. After that we’ll try again and hopefully get it right this time.” She casts a murderous glance at the violas, who shuffle hurriedly to place their instruments aside.

Most people leave the rehearsal space, chattering as they go. Leo sets his bass in its stand, but Otabek stays behind to check the tune of his bass. He twangs the strings a few times and adjusts them. There are a few others doing the same around the room.

After the break, the players file back to their seats and grab their instruments just as Lilia enters the room and marches to her spot at the front. She picks up her baton and nods. “Right. Let’s get the tempo right this time, shall we?”

They are halfway through the song when the door opens and closes behind Otabek, but they keep playing through until the last bar.

Lilia sets the baton down and glances at the door. “Ah, everyone. Please welcome our addition to the first violins.”

Everyone shuffles in their seats to look at the door. A young man leans on the wall beside the door, a violin case hanging from his fingers. If it wasn’t for the violin case he’d look like a roadie for a rock band, with his ripped black jeans, hoodie and his blond hair a tousled mess. He pushes his hair off his face with his free hand as Lilia speaks up, but he doesn’t look directly at anyone.

Otabek’s mind makes the connection and helpfully supplies a name for the face before Lilia says it out loud.

_Yuri Plisetsky._

At twenty-one, he’s already one of the best violinists in Europe. Otabek only hears about half of what Lilia is saying, because he’s too busy taking in the sight of Yuri currently crossing the room to take a seat among the first violins. Victor Nikiforov holds out a hand and Yuri shakes it briefly. Then he drags a chair behind Victor’s seat before sitting down.

“Holy crap, he’s really good,” Leo hisses. “I read an article about him last year. He was the youngest violinist to play with the Vienna Philharmonic in _decades_.”

Otabek nods. Over the years, Yuri has been stamped with titles like _child prodigy_ , _musical genius_ and _natural talent_. He started playing with world-famous orchestras when he was fifteen, among players double or triple his age.

Which begs the question, what is he doing _here_?

As Yuri’s cool eyes sweep the space, measuring the players and their instruments, it’s apparent that he doesn’t really like people. Anyone who knows about Yuri knows about his misanthropy, and he makes no attempt to hide it as he scans the room. Most players shy away from the gaze, but Otabek holds his ground. When Yuri’s gaze glides over the bass section, it stops for a fraction of a second on Otabek. In the background, Lilia continues talking about Yuri’s merits and how happy they are to have him.

When Lilia is done with her introductory spiel, Yuri calmly unpacks his violin from its case and sets it under his chin. The violinist next to him flashes the sheet music his way, and Yuri nods as if that single glance is all he needed. Either he’s rehearsed the piece before or then he really is as good at memorizing notes as they claim.

Yuri’s skill in learning musical pieces is said to be from another planet. Looking at his collected demeanor, Otabek doesn’t doubt it.

The rest of the orchestra pulls their instruments close and positions them as Lilia taps the baton against the edge of her stand. “Alright, again from the top. And this time, _everyone_ sticks to the _same_ tempo: the one I _show_ you!”

 

-

 

Yuri stays behind after practice to talk with Lilia. Otabek lingers at the back of the room, stealing glances of Yuri as he’s packing his bass slowly into its case. Eventually he has to admit that he can’t linger any longer without coming off as a total creep. He casts one last glance to the front of the room where Yuri and Lilia are talking in low voices, and then skulks out through the door among the last players.

Yuri Plisetsky looks just as gorgeous in real life as he does in his instagram photos, which puts him firmly out of Otabek’s league. In addition to that, he’s also way out of their orchestra’s league musically. So why is he here?

On the bus on his way home, Otabek googles Yuri’s name and finds the mention of their orchestra acquiring him. Yuri is going to be the new concertmaster, because Victor Nikiforov is moving to Japan where his boyfriend lives. The news is published in a recent post on their concert hall website, and the post has an air of suddenness to it, like the PR person had no idea Yuri was coming. But it can’t have been a total surprise to everyone? Lilia sure knew of Yuri’s arrival.

It's probably a bit creepy to scroll through Yuri’s recent posts on twitter and insta, but Otabek is curious. There is no mention of the change of scenery anywhere on Yuri’s social media. His last instagram post is a selfie from over a week ago and the last thing he has retweeted is a throwback video from a Vienna Philharmonic concert a few years back.

It looks like there’s something hidden behind this sudden swap. Some scheme Otabek doesn’t know about.

It gives Yuri an aura of mystery, which in turn makes Yuri all the more interesting.

It takes a few practice sessions for the orchestra to get used to having Yuri occupy the seat behind Victor’s. One would think that one violin doesn’t add that much to the overall sound, but it’s always an adjustment to take on new players, especially ones with a reputation such as Yuri Plisetsky.

Yuri is one hell of a violinist but he doesn’t get along with people very well. He doesn’t seem to want anyone’s company, so he sits in his chair during the breaks and only talks to Lilia. Yuri plays well with others when it comes to instruments, but he doesn’t play well with others when it comes to social interactions. He snaps at people and glares at the first violins when someone messes up. Overall, his aura of mystery is overshadowed by his cold attitude.

Which makes asking him out pretty damn difficult.

 

-

 

Otabek is usually among the first to arrive to practice. He likes to take the earlier bus so he can set up everything without a rush. He sits down in his seat and lowers his bass to its stand beside him.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks it’s on silent mode, before flicking through twitter and insta. Otabek has been following Yuri on both for quite some time, and he’s been checking them even more often in the days since Yuri Plisetsky walked into their rehearsal space. There still hasn’t been an announcement on any of Yuri’s social media accounts about his newest career development. Perhaps he doesn’t want to advertise it? Some might consider this a downgrade, because good as they are, they’re nowhere near as good as Vienna Philharmonic.

Someone walks past him and Otabek glances up, then keeps watching as Yuri paces across the room in a leopard print hoodie and his violin case in hand. The violin case has a tiger head sticker on it.

Yuri shrugs his hoodie on the floor and sits down, opening his violin case and pulling out the instrument. Now, without the cello section sitting in front of Otabek and Victor absent from his seat in front of Yuri, there are no obstacles between Otabek and Yuri. Yuri sets his violin on its stand beside his chair and slumps down, browsing something on his phone.

Otabek sits frozen in his seat, clutching his phone and taking in the sight. Yuri’s hair is long, flowing down to his shoulders, and today it’s tied back in a messy ponytail. A few wispy strands have escaped, framing his face. His rehearsal clothes consist of baggy sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, but Otabek has seen enough concert videos of him to know that Yuri cleans up nice. In fact, he cleans up absolutely gorgeous, dressed up in suits that look tailored and his hair braided in elaborate styles.

“What are you looking at?” Yuri asks in a snappy tone.

Otabek startles and looks away, pushing his phone into his pocket and reaching for his bass to occupy him. It’s not a good idea to get caught staring at Yuri. Yuri’s tongue seems to be as sharp as Lilia’s and his tolerance for people is a solid zero.

It’s too bad he’s so fucking gorgeous that Otabek can’t stop staring. He keeps stealing glances while people trickle in and take their seats, checking their instruments and leafing through their sheet music.

“Hey, Beks.” Leo slaps his palm against Otabek’s as he takes his seat and takes out his bass. “Okay, recognize this song?” Leo asks as he runs his fingers down the neck of his instrument, positioning the bow.

Otabek leans his bass against his chest, smiling. They play this game often. When Leo drags the first notes out of his bass, Otabek grins and starts nodding along. He watches and listens for a moment, then positions his own bow, creating a simple backup to Leo’s bass solo. He wouldn’t be able to do that with an unfamiliar melody, but he knows this song by heart, so it’s easy to improvise and play along.

“Dude, is that _Thunderstruck_?” Guang Hong pipes up from the cello section. “Awesome!”

Leo laughs and winks, and he keeps playing through the chorus. Otabek picks up on the notes and when Leo gets to the second verse, Otabek adds his own tune, aiming for a backup that’s lower by a minor third. It’s occasionally off-pitch, but it doesn’t sound that bad.

The rest of the orchestra is either listening to them or jamming along by now. JJ is grinning by the piano, dotting the melody with occasional high notes from the keys. During the second chorus, Otabek drops the bow and plucks out a few snappy notes with just his fingers, banging his head along the music. In the viola section, Sara is waving her bow in the air and farther back Mila is jamming by the harp, laughing. Once Leo draws out the last note from the bass and slams his hand on the strings, killing the sound, the rehearsal space falls into a chaos of whoops and applause. Mila puts her fingers in her mouth and whistles, and even Seung-gil looks like he might smile as he stands by the drums.

Guang Hong reaches out to high-five both Otabek and Leo, and Chris flashes the sign of the horns at them as he walks past on his way to the trumpet section.

Lilia comes in through the door, cutting the noise with her presence. She spares them a dry smile and claps her hands a few times, calling for them to take positions and get ready for what’s on the agenda today. “Unfortunately, it’s not _Thunderstruck_ ,” she says, but she sounds amused.

This is by no means the first time Lilia has heard them fooling around before practice or during breaks. Otabek and Leo often spend time trying to figure out how to play rock music on a double bass, but AC/DC’s _Thunderstruck_ is a new addition to Leo’s repertoire. As Lilia steps up to her spot and starts arranging her sheet music, Otabek briefly holds his hand out in a high five and asks Leo to teach him how to play it.

When everyone is seated, Otabek looks across the room. Through the gap between the cellos, he can see Yuri Plisetsky looking straight at him. He’s not smiling, but the hostility in his eyes seems to have diminished a notch. He looks almost curious.

Otabek ventures a wink, and to his surprise, Yuri is the one who looks away this time.

 _Small victories_ , Otabek grins to himself as he opens his sheet music on the stand between him and Leo and positions his bow to the opening bar of the song they’re rehearsing.

 

-

 

The first time they play without Victor is weird. Otabek is so used to looking to Lilia’s side and seeing Victor’s silver hair occupying the concertmaster’s seat.

Now the chair is occupied by Yuri’s blond tousle.

He plays the violin with deft fingers, never hesitating, and there is no doubt that he is qualified to be seated where he is. But there are always small quirks to everyone’s style of playing or conducting, and the first violins need some time to adjust to Yuri. It’s to be expected. Six months ago when Lilia was sick with pneumonia, Yakov was filling in for her for a week. Their conducting styles are like from different dimensions, and the cacophony that was the result of their first attempt left Yakov holding his ears by the sixth bar.

As the leader of the first violins, Victor played the violin with softness that is missing from Yuri’s movements. Yuri plays his instrument with fierce determination, and even though he can elicit the softest of sounds from his violin, nothing about Yuri himself is soft.

During their rehearsal break, Leo nudges Otabek. “Hey, wanna go grab a drink after practice?”

Otabek mentally goes over his schedule for the next day as he gulps down some water. “Sure. We could ask others to join us, too?”

Leo grins. “Sure. Hey Guang Hong!” he calls, and Guang Hong turns to look at them. “Drinks at the pub tonight, pass it on!” Guang Hong shows them a thumbs-up and passes the message to the players around him.

When practice is over, they pack up their stuff and prepare to leave. There are six of them loitering around, waiting so they can head out to the pub together.

Otabek glances at Yuri, who is closing the latches of his violin case. “Just a sec,” Otabek says to Leo.

He approaches Yuri cautiously. “Hey,” he says, pushing his hands into his hoodie pockets.

Yuri looks up, raising his eyebrows in question.

“A bunch of us are heading out for a drink,” Otabek says. “I was wondering if you wanted to come with us?”

Yuri blinks. “Why?”

Otabek blinks back. “Because you’re playing with us now. Might as well get to know us?”

Yuri picks up the violin case and straightens up. “Uh. I don’t think so.”

Otabek shrugs. “Well, just thought I’d ask,” he says. He turns and walks over to Leo, who is holding his bass case by the neck. Leo raises a questioning eyebrow, and Otabek shakes his head. “He’s not interested.”

“Wait, Otabek,” Yuri says behind them. “You are Otabek, right?” He looks directly at Otabek, completely ignoring Leo. Leo flashes a knowing grin at Otabek and jabs an elbow in his side.

“Yeah,” Otabek says. “And this asshole is Leo.”

“Hi,” Leo says.

Yuri nods and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I guess I could,” he says after a long pause. “Come with, I mean?”

Otabek smiles. “Sure.”

 

-

 

They walk along the sidewalk toward their usual pub a few blocks away. JJ is up front, leading the group, and the rest of them are following him in a mass of people that blocks the entire sidewalk. Otabek and Yuri are walking behind the others.

Otabek deliberately slows down his steps, so eventually they have enough of a distance to the rest of the group that they can’t hear anything aside from an occasional loud laughter from JJ. Otabek glances at Yuri, who walks sullenly beside him. Perhaps now there’s a chance of getting Yuri to talk.

“You played in Vienna before, didn’t you?” Otabek asks.

Yuri shrugs. “Yeah.” The nonchalance of his voice gives the impression that it’s no big deal. “I was there for over three years. And then in Budapest after that.”

“That’s pretty awesome,” Otabek says.

Yuri gives another shrug, one-shouldered like it’s not that impressive. Otabek can’t decide whether Yuri really thinks it’s nothing or if he feigns modesty.

“So do you play other stuff besides AC/DC?” Yuri asks. He swings his violin case back and forth in his hand.

“Yeah, we play all kinds of shit with Leo” Otabek says, adjusting the strap of his bass case on his shoulder. “This one time we practiced the _Imperial March_ from Star Wars.” He chuckles. “Then we played it when Lilia walked in.”

Yuri glances at him and there’s a small grin on his face. “Bet she appreciated that.”

Otabek laughs. “She looked down at us with a glare that could curdle milk. Then she told us we should revise our notation up a half-semitone for better effect.”

Yuri smiles, then his expression slides back into its usual scowl. He looks at the group ahead as if estimating the distance. “I don’t think I’ll come with you after all,” he says.

“Oh,” Otabek says, frowning. “Um, maybe some other time?”

Yuri shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

He turns away before Otabek has a chance to say anything, walking back the same way they came.

“See you at practice!” Otabek shouts after him. Yuri raises a hand to wave without looking back.

Otabek turns to the retreating group and follows them to the pub with massive wooden tables and yellow-toned lights. The place is kind of a shithole, but a cozy one. They mostly come here because the owners don’t mind them bringing in massive instruments that take up a lot of space.

“Did you murder Yuri Plisetsky and dump the body in a ditch?” Leo asks when Otabek makes his way to the tables they’ve taken over in the back corner.

“He didn’t feel like joining us,” Otabek says, deep in thought.

Apparently, in addition to being one hell of a violinist, Yuri Plisetsky is one hell of a mystery man. It makes Otabek even more determined to ask him out and get him talking.

 

-

 

They’ve been giving each other looks over the cello section for five days now, and once Otabek almost made Yuri smile. _Almost_. It was like the slightest twitch of his mouth, but Otabek still counts that as a win.

“So, have you bagged that yet?” Leo asks after following an exchange of looks back and forth for a while. “Or is this still in the wooing stages?”

Otabek pokes Leo in the cheek with his bow. “Shut up.”

“I call dibs on best man for your wedding,” Leo says, ducking away from Otabek’s bow.

“That would require a date first,” Otabek says and lowers his bow, giving a defeated shrug.

Leo looks at him incredulously. “Well, ask him out, then?”

Like it’s that simple.

Maybe it is.

“So, how about coffee?” Otabek asks Yuri after practice. “And I don’t mean like right now, it could be some other day if you’re busy now.”

Yuri’s head snaps up. “I don’t know.” He looks around as if the emptying rehearsal space would offer him answers.

Otabek exhales. Maybe blunt force is the way to go with Yuri, since hints don’t seem to have any effect. “Okay, so just tell me one thing?”

Yuri turns his gaze to Otabek. His hair is down today, and a few strands cover his eye. He makes a move as if to push the hair back, but then he lowers his hands again and grabs his violin case. “What?” he asks warily.

“This… thing. Across the room. Is it just me?” Otabek asks.

Yuri gives him a long look. His eyes are serious and for once not radiating any type of misanthropy. “No. No, it isn’t.”

“Then why—?” Otabek spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. If there’s no reason to _not_ do this, then why aren’t they doing it already?

Whatever _‘it’_ is.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be around,” Yuri says. “There are variables at play here I don’t know about yet.”

Otabek hums under his breath. “Well, you’re here today, right?”

Yuri blinks. “Yeah?”

“So, how about coffee?” Otabek repeats.

This time, Yuri gives him a small smile. “Fine.”

 

-

 

Otabek doesn’t enjoy the thought of dragging his bass case around the city, but when Yuri suggests walking around for a bit after practice, he accepts without complaint. When they exit the building among the others, Yuri steers them in the opposite direction from the bulk of the group. Leo gives Otabek a thumbs-up and a wink, and Otabek expressionlessly flips him off, before turning and following Yuri.

“Where are you taking me?” Otabek asks after Yuri takes a few turns and Otabek finds himself in a part of town he’s not familiar with.

“There’s this park down the road,” Yuri says. “And since you mentioned coffee, there’s a coffeeshop a block before the park.”

They get coffee and walk to the park with takeaway cups in hand. The sun is creeping toward the horizon but the evening is still bright and warm.

“Is this where you kill me?” Otabek asks, because why wouldn’t he try to woo Yuri with the most clichéd line in history?

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Yes.” He walks down the path toward a line of benches.

“For the record, I’m still following you,” Otabek says. “Even if I’m walking to my doom.”

He thinks he hears a stifled laughter, but he can’t be sure. He still counts it as another small victory.

Yuri stops at the benches lining the path and climbs to sit on the backrest. He sets his violin case between his feet on the seat. Otabek leans his bass case on the bench and, after a moment’s hesitation, climbs on the backrest as well. The heat from his takeaway cup seeps through to his fingertips, and he rotates the cup in his hands to keep the burning sensation at bay.

An awkward silence stretches between them. It’s like Otabek’s brain doesn’t know what to do now that he has Yuri sitting here next to him, and Yuri doesn’t offer any help by striking up a conversation. Otabek doesn’t know where to look, so he looks straight ahead, across the patch of grass extending down the hill where there’s a playground with a few kids running all over the place.

“How long have you been playing bass?” Yuri finally asks, breaking the silence.

Otabek startles and glances to his left, where Yuri is sipping coffee from his cup. “Oh, um, I started with cello when I was ten and then picked up bass when I was seventeen,” he says. “I was kind of a late bloomer with music I guess.”

Yuri hums under his breath. “I started playing violin when I was four. Grandpa had a violin and he let me try it. I cried when he took it away and so he bought me my own violin.”

“And you were good at it right away, huh?” Otabek asks. Everyone who knows Yuri’s name knows the story of the musical child genius.

Yuri snorts, amused. “As good as a four-year-old can be expected to be. But grandpa got me a teacher, even though I realized later it meant he had to give up—well, a lot of things to pay for it.” Yuri shakes his head, then glances at Otabek. “But I got to play, and that’s what mattered.”

Otabek nods. He knows the elated sensation of happiness after nailing a particularly difficult sequence of notes for the first time; knows the rush of adrenaline walking onstage while people in the darkness clap with enthusiasm.

“What was the first thing you learned to play?” Yuri asks.

Otabek turns to look at the playground downhill and squints at the line of trees behind it. “Damned if I remember,” he says. “But I’m guessing you do?”

“ _Ode to Joy_ ,” Yuri says.

Otabek lets out an unbelieving laughter and shakes his head. No wonder they call Yuri a child prodigy. He turns to look at Yuri. “Really?”

Yuri grins. “It was a simplified version of the song.”

“Yeah, but still. Normal people start by learning something like _twinkle, twinkle little star_ and you start with _Ode to Joy_?” Otabek mutters, incredulous.

“My teacher was strictly classical,” Yuri says. “She wouldn’t have lowered herself to the level of _twinkle, twinkle little star_. So I had to learn fast to keep up.” Yuri brushes a strand of hair behind his ear and smiles. He tips back the takeaway cup as he sips from it, indicating that he’s down to his last sip. He lowers the cup on the bench and turns to Otabek. “Do you play any other instruments?”

Yuri’s expression is excited when he talks about music. He smiles a lot more, gestures with his hands, and Otabek likes seeing that so he keeps the topic on music, answering all Yuri’s questions about his bass, about playing cello, whatever Yuri wants to know. It’s a lot better than staring awkwardly into nothingness, that’s for sure.

The park is getting dim and the playground is empty, but there are still people walking down the gravel paths, enjoying the last rays of the setting sun.

“There’s this one melody that’s stuck in my head,” Yuri says, reaching for his violin case. He flips the case open to take the instrument out and bring it to his chin. His movements are fluid and natural, like he doesn’t need to think about how to position his instrument. He moves his fingers on the strings and draws a note out of the violin. It’s a long, vibrating sound that might give a haunted feel if it wasn’t for the calm greenery of the park surrounding them. Otabek lowers his empty coffee mug on the bench and tilts his head, enjoying the sound of the violin in the quiet around them.

Yuri begins to play a melody that’s melancholy and hopeful at the same time. He closes his eyes every now and then, as if he has a mental image of the sheet music in his head. Like always, he seems completely absorbed in his music, and Otabek can’t look away. Yuri’s face is serene, like everything that’s ever bothered him has been blown away by the music flowing through him.

People walking nearby stop to listen. First an older couple stops, hand in hand. Then a woman pushing her bicycle up the path. Another couple a bit farther away on another bench turn to look and get up to come closer. Yuri doesn’t seem to notice the gathering crowd, and when the song ends and people start clapping, he startles and looks around, before lowering his eyes to his lap. The violin hangs awkwardly from his hand, no longer the natural extension of him but more like a burden. It’s strange to witness the sudden change in Yuri’s demeanor.

When it becomes apparent that there will be no more music, the crowd disperses. Otabek waits until the last gawking human being has vanished from sight before nudging Yuri gently with his elbow.

“Did you compose that?” Otabek asks when Yuri looks at him.

Yuri smiles at the violin on his lap. “Yeah.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Yuri shrugs. “Uh. Thanks.”

Yuri brushes a strand of hair behind his ear again. He seems to do that a lot, like he needs something to do with his hands and messing with his hair is the only thing he can think of. It doesn’t look like a conscious movement, but more like something Yuri does a lot when his hands aren’t holding a violin and a bow.

Maybe Otabek is just reading way too much into Yuri’s movements? He’s hyper-aware of Yuri, so close but still unreachable. The impenetrable bubble around Yuri seems weaker, but Otabek is painfully aware of a reluctance in the air between them. If it wasn’t for the stolen glances and almost-smiles they’ve been giving each other across the rehearsal space, he’d think he’s imagining whatever attraction is bubbling under the surface. Yuri straight up said it’s not just in Otabek’s head, so why is there such resistance at play?

Yuri glances around and packs his violin back in the case. “I don’t deal well with crowds. Or people,” he says off-hand, then jolts like he didn’t mean to give out this information.

Otabek immediately latches onto it. “But you’re onstage with like seventy others, and you play in front of thousands of people every week,” he says. “I mean, what about that?”

Yuri shrugs. “It’s not the same. When I play, there’s just me and the music. People cease to exist.”

Otabek has seen it, the way everything else disappears when Yuri plays. It’s beautiful to watch.

Yuri pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the display. “I should go,” he says.

“Oh. Okay?”

“It was fun,” Yuri says in a tone that doesn’t indicate if he actually thinks it was fun or not.

“Yeah,” Otabek says.

Yuri jumps up from the bench and grabs his violin case. Otabek has barely enough time to get to his feet when Yuri is already walking away. Otabek wants to run after him, grab him and ask what’s his issue, but he stands by the bench and watches Yuri walk up toward the park gates.

“See you at rehearsal!” he shouts at Yuri’s retreating back.

Yuri’s reply is a raised hand and, like before, he doesn’t look back.

Otabek frowns at the takeaway cup Yuri left on the bench; the only evidence he was ever here. In the end, Otabek hoists his bass case to his back and carries both their cups to the nearby trashcan. It’s overflowing with garbage, and Otabek feels weird kinship with the battered metal bin.

 

-

 

“So he just got up and left?” Leo’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Just like that?”

Otabek shrugs, glancing around in the rehearsal space. They’re the only ones in the room. “Pretty much.”

“But you’ve been eye-fucking each other across this very room since he first walked in, I’ve seen it with these two eyes.” Leo points to his eyes. “Why would he do that if he’s not interested?”

Otabek shrugs again. He doesn’t have an answer to that. It doesn’t feel like a matter of interest. There is something else that’s unrelated to whatever is going on between him and Yuri, he is sure of it. The social media silence from Yuri’s direction, the near-nonexistent media coverage of him moving to replace Victor as concertmaster and Yuri’s overall behavior seem to indicate there’s something else happening behind the scenes.

Otabek’s mind goes to wild places and conjures up scenarios in which Yuri is blackmailed and forced to join their orchestra. Even though that seems unlikely, because why would anyone coerce a violinist to join an orchestra that’s below their skillset? That sounds like a plot for a very bad mafia movie.

“Earth to Otabek,” Leo says.

“Sorry.” Otabek shakes his head. “I don’t know. There’s just something weird about this whole thing.”

When Yuri arrives, he walks straight across the rehearsal room like last night didn’t happen. Like he didn’t sit next to Otabek on a park bench, talking about music and sipping coffee and playing violin.

Leo whistles low under his breath. “Did you tell him his mother looks like a sack of potatoes or why is he giving you the ice treatment?”

Otabek looks over at Yuri, who glances up, sees Otabek looking at him and immediately looks down again. “I have no idea,” Otabek says slowly.

Maybe Yuri just isn’t interested. Maybe he didn’t want to flat-out say no when Otabek asked him out. Maybe Otabek is a pushy douche who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.

But then there are those looks; the long looks across the room. There are also the times when Yuri has almost smiled, and the softness in Yuri’s eyes when he looked over after playing his song in the park, that small fraction of a second of happiness directed at Otabek right before people started clapping. He’s not imagining this.

Otabek keeps stealing glances across the room without meaning to; it’s like his eyes automatically slide over to where Yuri is sitting in his chair. It’s a relief when Lilia walks in and Otabek has to give his full attention to something that’s not Yuri Plisetsky.

After the practice he doesn’t remember anything about it but he can’t have screwed up that bad because Lilia would have chewed his head off and he’d remember _that_.

Otabek packs up his bass and leaves the rehearsal space among the first. At least he can keep some of his dignity by not crawling up to Yuri and begging him for a second date.

That is, if the first time even counts as a date? With how it ended, perhaps it doesn’t. Which is why he definitely doesn’t want to act pathetic and go talk to Yuri right now. Otabek doesn’t look back when he strides to the nearest bus stop and waits for his bus.

Maybe it’s best to just let it go and aim his efforts elsewhere, because Yuri Plisetsky seems to be the type of a person to throw people in for a loop. He doesn’t talk to anyone in the orchestra, no one knows anything about him outside his musical career. Otabek probably knows more than the rest of them, and even then he only knows Yuri has played since he was four, the first song he learned was _Ode to Joy_ , he composes music and dislikes crowds of people. Which, in retrospect, isn’t much.

Otabek climbs on the bus and slumps down in the seat right behind the driver. He hugs his bass case close and leans his head on the window. It’s strange to be so affected by someone he’s only known for two or three weeks and talked to for a couple of hours.

 

-

 

When Lilia enters the rehearsal space the following day, she claps her hands and the room immediately falls silent.

“As you know, we have a concert coming up in _three weeks_.” Her gaze slides over the room. “I feel like some of you are not giving it your all, and I _demand_ that you do. I expect nothing less than your absolute best. Now bring it!” She waves her baton and people hurry to position their instruments.

Once the first song ends, there is a commotion in the violin section. The scrape of a chair against the floor makes Otabek look up.

Yuri has turned to face the person sitting behind him, and even across the room Otabek can hear his angry words as he snaps, “Can you fucking learn how to count to four or is that too much to ask?”

Lilia whips in the direction of the voice. “Yuri Plisetsky,” she snaps. “If my orchestra needs berating I will do it myself.”

Yuri snaps his mouth shut but he’s still glaring at the violinist behind him.

“ _Yuri_ ,” Lilia says in a tone that could freeze water.

The chair scrapes the floor again as Yuri turns back and looks sullenly at Lilia. She narrows her eyes, and to Yuri this seems to speak volumes because he looks down and fiddles with his bow.

There is something strange about the whole situation. It’s not strange that Yuri is snapping or glaring at people, because he’s been doing that from the start, but the way he takes direction from Lilia is different.

Otabek squints at the conductor as she flips over to the next page in her sheet music. “Alright, show’s over, next song!” she calls, and Otabek wakes up from his frozen trance to ready his bow.

For the next few practices, things are weird.

Yuri is back to his sullen behavior and not talking to anyone. Otabek feels like a walking question mark and he dodges out of the way when Yuri pushes past, tugging his hood up as he leaves the rehearsal space in a hurry. Yuri’s expression is blank and unreadable.

Otabek wishes he knew what he did or said—or _didn’t_ do or say—to make the situation this awkward.

 

-

 

“Look, I don’t know about this,” Yuri says as he walks up to Otabek on the fourth day after their not-quite date in the park.

“Define ‘ _this_ ’,” Otabek replies, confused. Yuri seems to pick up a conversation Otabek doesn’t recall having with him. Perhaps he’s just one of those people who assume people know what he’s referring to without any clues whatsoever.

“I don’t even know,” Yuri says. He switches his violin case from one hand to the other. “I’m not on the lookout for… stuff like that.” He waves his hand in a manner that conveys absolutely nothing.

Otabek still gets what he means, clear as a day.

Yuri doesn’t see him as boyfriend material. Or even hookup material.

It stings a bit.

“That’s cool,” Otabek says, hoping that his face doesn’t show how much it takes to say those words in a neutral tone.

“But we can be friends?” For some reason Yuri sounds like suggesting this is giving him a stomachache.

Otabek has no idea why Yuri would suggest this if the thought gives him such awful sensations, but he nods nonetheless. “Of course.”

It’s not ideal, but it sure beats the hell out of avoiding each other’s gaze and pretending like the other doesn’t exist even when they’re playing the same song across the rehearsal space.

 

-

 

It takes some time getting used to the turn of the situation, but once Otabek gets over the looming sensation of disappointment, being Yuri’s friend is nice. It’s a good feeling to have Yuri talk to him during rehearsal breaks, and even if every interaction between them is tinted with a yearning sensation Otabek doesn’t care to address, it’s easier to breathe in this environment of friendship.

Their newly established friendship doesn’t go unnoticed, and Otabek feels eyes on him every time Yuri stops by the bass section to exchange a few words.

“Hey, you wanna hang out today?” Yuri asks out of the blue one day when the concert is less than two weeks away. “Like I don’t know, get takeout and go to my place, play some music.”

“We play music all day every day,” Otabek points out with a smile.

Yuri grins. “What else is there to do?”

Otabek could think of a few things, and his eyes drop to Yuri’s lips before his brain can consent. Otabek blinks and then dives to grab his folder of sheet music from the floor.

He’s acutely aware of Yuri’s denim-clad legs in his peripheral vision while he packs his bass away and shoves his sheet music into the front pocket of the case.

“So, what do you think?” Yuri asks. “About hanging out?” he clarifies when Otabek looks up.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

They get Chinese food from a place that’s near where Yuri lives and walk up the stairs to the third floor of the apartment building.

Yuri’s apartment is tiny and even though he’s been here a while there are still unpacked boxes lining the small room that doubles as a bedroom and a living room. The apartment has an unfinished feel, like everything was left where it was originally dropped. There are piles of clothes in boxes and on top of furniture while the open door of the closet reveals that it’s almost empty. Otabek realizes with a pang of disappointment that it looks like Yuri isn’t expecting to stay. So he wasn’t lying when he first said he didn’t know how long he would be around.

A small cream-colored cat with a brown face and paws is lounging on the messy bed. The animal’s tail swishes a few times as it regards Otabek suspiciously.

“This is my girl Potya,” Yuri says, picking up the cat and kissing her between the ears.

“Yeah, you showed me pictures the other day,” Otabek recalls. “She’s cute.”

“She’s a spoiled little queen.” Yuri sighs. “Come say hi.”

Potya sniffs Otabek’s hand and allows him to pet her, but as soon as Yuri puts her down she scampers over to the bookshelf and positions herself to the second-lowest shelf. She keeps eyeing Otabek like she doesn’t know whether he’s to be trusted or not.

“She’s suspicious of strangers,” Yuri says, opening the takeout containers. “I don’t usually have people over so she only sees me.”

Otabek goes to help open the food containers with a smile on his face. Somehow it feels good to know he’s a special case allowed inside Yuri’s little kingdom.

They eat Chinese food sitting cross-legged on the floor and watching cat videos on YouTube, and afterwards they play together. It takes a bit of trial and error to fall in sync without someone keeping the pace with a baton, but Yuri is pretty good at keeping count and his knee bouncing along lets Otabek decipher the tempo as well. They fall into harmony in a manner that feels easy, natural. Most things with Yuri seem to be that way.

As the concert draws closer, Otabek often finds himself at Yuri’s small apartment, and usually they end up playing something together. One violin with one bass isn’t the most gorgeous combination to the ear, but Yuri can create musical variety in inventive ways, so it ends up sounding really good most of the time.

Being Yuri’s friend also means Otabek doesn’t get glared at when he messes up. Yuri just shakes his head and smiles this amused half-smile that Otabek quickly realizes is only reserved to close friends. “No, you see, that bar right there, you should go up a semitone,” Yuri instructs. He holds his violin and bow one-handed while he pokes a finger to the bar in question on Otabek’s sheet music. “It doesn’t make sense intuitively, because it should sound wrong in theory, but together with a violin it will sound better. Trust me.”

Otabek does, and he’s not surprised when they play the previous bar again, and it sounds a lot better. Yuri’s ear for what sounds good seems to muddle the rules of musical theory a lot.

“We sound good together,” Yuri says when they finish the piece. He sounds happy in a wistful way that doesn’t make sense.

“Yeah. We do.”

 

-

 

“So what is going on with you and Plisetsky, then?” Leo asks after Yuri walks by with a nod and his usual half-smile. “First you go out, then he acts like you don’t exist and now all of a sudden you’re joined at the hip?”

Otabek tries not to stare at Yuri walking across the room. “Nothing’s going on. We’re friends,” he says.

Leo chuckles. “Friends, huh? And how’s that going for you?”

“It’s been fun. We hang out, play music.”

It _has_ been fun. Once Yuri lets his guard down, he is a cool person to hang out with. His obsession over music is excessive and unending, he’s funny and caring and loves cat videos. It’s _easy_ being Yuri’s friend, even if Otabek can’t help but want more at times. Sometimes, when light hits Yuri’s eyes just right, or when he’s laughing at something with his head thrown back, Otabek gets a strangling sensation in his throat. It’s like something that’s right _there_ but still beyond his grasp.

He refuses to complain about being friend-zoned, because that’s something that only douchebags do. Besides, it’s not like being Yuri’s friend is some kind of a _punishment_. Being Yuri’s friend is a lot of fun.

But it doesn’t stop him from wishing for something more than just friendship, and sometimes he feels guilty for wishing for more. He tries not to dwell on the guilt, because it’s not like he’s forcing his wishful thinking on Yuri. No, it’s something he keeps carefully hidden, even though at times it feels like it’s getting increasingly difficult to hide his true feelings. The more he gets to know Yuri, the more he falls for him, and projecting an outward shell of friendship takes a lot of effort.

But being friends is definitely better than being nothing, so Otabek is not about to complain.

 

-

 

Days fly by and the first night of the concert arrives.

There is a nervous lump in Otabek’s throat throughout the entire day before the performance, and when they finally get onstage and reach for their instruments, his fingers are shaky.

Otabek finds Yuri’s eyes across the stage. Yuri is serious, expressionless, but the look he gives Otabek is reassuring. Otabek can almost hear the thoughts Yuri is projecting his way. _You’re going to be awesome. We’re going to be awesome._

Otabek inhales deep and waits for the cue of the baton, and then the music starts and everything else ceases to exist. For long minutes that stretch to an hour there is nothing but the satisfying feel of strings under his bow and the music floating all around him.

Otabek is sweaty and his hands are trembling when the final note fades out. There is a brief moment of tense silence, then Lilia lowers her baton and the tension melts away as the audience starts to clap.

They stand up and bow while the audience continues clapping.

Lilia’s face is near-expressionless as always, but there’s a very tiny smile spreading on her lips as she nods and they bow again. They must have been good for her to be in such a good mood.

Otabek catches Yuri’s eye across the stage and smiles. Yuri smiles back.

They leave the instruments onstage and linger behind the stage door while the audience files out. Yuri is leaning against the wall and his posture reminds Otabek of the day when Yuri first walked into their rehearsal space in mid-song. This time he’s not wearing jeans and a hoodie, but is instead he’s in a black suit with faint gray pinstripes and his hair is braided in an intricate updo.

Leo elbows Otabek in the side. “Like what you see there, Beks?”

Otabek elbows him back. “Shut up.”

They go back onstage to pack up, crouching to put their instruments in their cases. Packing a violin seems to take less time than packing a bass, Otabek notes when he looks up and sees Yuri’s dress pants appearing in his field of vision.

“Pretty awesome gig, huh?” Yuri says, zipping up a hoodie on top of his suit jacket. He seems to be in a good mood. He even nods to Leo, who looks puzzled but nods back nonetheless. Leo grabs his bass case to leave and then pretends to faint dramatically behind Yuri. Otabek glares at him before turning to Yuri and smiling.

“Yeah, it was okay I guess,” he says. “Concluding from Lilia’s reaction.”

“Are you kidding? From her that was practically ecstatic,” Yuri remarks.

Otabek clicks the bass case shut and gets up from the floor.

“Are you going home now?” Yuri asks. “I’m gonna walk, I’m too hyped to sit on a bus right now.” He taps his foot on the floor as if to demonstrate his amped-up state.

Taking the bus home was his plan, but Otabek changes the plan on the fly. “I’ll walk home with you?” he suggests. “I can always take a later bus, it passes like two blocks away from your place anyway.”

“Sure.” Yuri grins, warm and happy. He looks like he’s high on music. Otabek knows the feeling, because the same thrum of happiness is coursing through his own body. The after-concert high is one of the best feelings in the world—the tension in his shoulders is dissolving and leaving him with an overjoyed sensation of success.

As soon as they’re out of the concert hall, Yuri tugs off the hair tie holding his braid together and shakes his hair loose. A few bobby pins scatter around him and Otabek bends to pick them up.

“Thanks,” Yuri says and pockets the pins. He combs his fingers through his hair and groans. “This feels so good—my braid has been killing my scalp for the past hour or so.”

Shaken loose from the braid, his hair is slightly wavy and framing his face in golden strands. Yuri shakes his head to make his hair settle and then pulls up his hood. “There. Now we can get going.”

The adrenaline rush soon gives way to a relaxed exhaustion. They walk side by side in the cool night air, and the lights of the city paint everything in shades of yellow.

They stop at a red light, side by side. Yuri switches his violin case to his other hand, and in a parallel universe they might grasp each other’s hands right now, because their fingers are almost touching. Otabek stares at the persistent red light across the street and tries not to think about it.

Yuri turns to face him, then as if changing his mind about something he turns back to stare at the painted crosswalk. Otabek means to glance at Yuri and then turn back to the red light, but like many times before, he gets stuck staring.

Otabek doesn’t know if he _wants_ to get caught staring or not, but that’s what happens.

Yuri turns to face him again, slowly, and his eyes study Otabek’s face.

Yuri is very close. Otabek studies his face in return, the contours and contrast between light and shadow under the yellow glow of the streetlight. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from licking his lips. Under the artificial light Yuri looks harsh and angular; spiky like he is, but the line of his mouth is soft. Otabek’s eyes lock on that line, and he sees the nervous flick of Yuri’s tongue as he licks his lips.

“Look.” Yuri sounds breathless. “I just. God, I—” He cuts himself off and tugs at a strand of hair emerging from his hood.

He seems nervous.

A spark of hope ignites in Otabek’s chest. For the longest time, he thought he was imagining things because he wished they were real, but now he takes a second to reconsider. It all comes back in a flash: the shared looks and smiles, and the way Yuri sometimes looks at him like there is something going on beneath the surface. Otabek looks up from Yuri’s mouth, and he’s definitely not imagining the look in Yuri’s eyes right now.

Yuri looks like he’s one second away from kissing Otabek.

Otabek’s breath hitches in his throat, because the look in Yuri’s eyes is vulnerable. Otabek recalls thinking some time ago that nothing about Yuri is soft, but the light shines from behind him and in the shade of his hood, Yuri’s angles seem to smooth out, making his expression delicate like an impressionist painting.

He looks absolutely breathtaking.

“Can I just—” Yuri starts, and Otabek nods, breathes out a, “Fuck, _yes_ ,” and that’s all it takes for the world to tilt on its axis. Everything falls out of balance for a second, mainly because Yuri pushes into Otabek’s personal space so forcefully that they both stumble. Then Yuri grabs Otabek by the lapel one-handed and his mouth finds Otabek’s in a crash of soft lips and harsh tongue. The world tilts back upright again and the focal point of reality shifts to the spots where their bodies are touching. Otabek’s every sense focuses on Yuri; on the sensation of Yuri’s lips moving against his, on the strand of hair is poking out of Yuri’s hood and tickling Otabek’s cheek, on Yuri’s hands that are still holding him by the lapels of his jacket in an inescapable grip.

Like Otabek would want to escape this.

The light at the crosswalk changes several times from red to green and back again, but Otabek is in no hurry to cross the street. When they pull apart, Otabek lingers close and tries to see if there are signs of regret on Yuri’s face. He finds none, so he kisses Yuri again, softer this time. It’s a cautious exploration with none of the ferocity Yuri displayed during the first kiss.

Otabek only pulls back when Yuri’s violin case starts digging into his thigh in a painful manner. “Is that a violin case or are you just happy to see me?”

Yuri rolls his eyes and groans. “You have the worst pick-up lines.”

“You’re the worst for falling for them, then,” Otabek teases with a smile.

Yuri tilts his head like a challenge. “Who says I am?” he asks defiantly.

“These just said you are,” Otabek says and presses a fingertip to Yuri's bottom lip, as if to remind him of the shared kisses.

Yuri doesn’t pull away, and Otabek can’t help the stupid grin that spreads on his face as he lingers before pulling his hand back.

They finally cross the street on the following green light.

“I wanted to do that since that first date in the park,” Yuri admits. He wipes the corner of his mouth and smiles. It’s not the amused half-smile he usually gives out, but a very small smile that looks almost shy, but there is a sad undertone to it.

Otabek beams. “So it was a date?”

Yuri sighs. “Of course it was, are you an idiot?”

“With the way you acted the following day I wasn’t sure.”

Yuri winces. “Yeah, about that. I guess I owe you an explanation.”

Otabek raises both eyebrows in disbelief. “You guess?”

“You don’t have to be an ass about it,” Yuri huffs.

“I don’t _have to_ , but I _can_ ,” Otabek says. He laughs when Yuri glares at him from under his hood. “Sorry, so what’s up?”

Yuri’s eyes wander over the dark street for a moment as they walk toward Yuri’s apartment building. “Lilia was my violin instructor when I was a kid,” he finally begins.

“I’m guessing this has something to do with the story?” Otabek asks.

“Just shut up and listen.” Yuri slaps Otabek’s arm lightly. “She didn’t really take on students anymore, but my grandfather knew her and convinced her to take me. So I guess you could say I can thank Lilia that I am where I am currently.”

Otabek wants to ask if that’s why it feels like Yuri is being held in this city against his will, but he keeps his blackmail-related thoughts to himself and nods at Yuri to continue.

“The reason I came back here is actually my grandfather,” Yuri explains. “He had a heart attack.” His voice sounds thick and the words come out reluctant, like this is something he doesn’t want to discuss.

“I’m sorry,” Otabek says. “You don’t have to talk about it.” He puts a hand on Yuri’s sleeve and squeezes his forearm.

Yuri shakes his head. “It’s fine, he’s doing better now. Anyway, he had to move into a retirement home, so I came to help with that, like the paperwork and settling and all, see that he’s going to be okay. I figured I’d join the orchestra so there would be something else to do here than sit and worry about Grandpa. I have a six-month contract,” he adds like an afterthought.

Over two months of those six have already passed. “Okay, and what happens after six months?” Otabek asks.

Yuri inhales and holds the breath for a few seconds before releasing it. “I got offered first violin in another orchestra…”

There is a quiet moment that feels like a drum roll.

“…In Philadelphia,” Yuri finishes his sentence.

“Philadelphia, in the US?” Otabek asks even though he already knows the answer. What other Philadelphia could Yuri possibly mean?

Yuri nods. “Yeah. The pay would be a lot better, so I could help out Grandpa more.” He shakes his head as if to banish a distracting thought. “So, anyway, it’s slightly _inconvenient_ to start a thing with anyone right now.”

Otabek swallows. “Oh. Yeah, I get it.” A _thing_ would definitely be inconvenient with one person in Europe and the other in the US.

“Look, it’s just a personality thing I guess. Whatever I do I tend to give it a hundred percent.” Yuri sighs. “If I get involved with you it’s gonna be so much harder if I have to leave.”

Otabek feels a sting somewhere around his stomach. “Okay, so what’s going on tonight, then?” He’s scared of hearing the answer, because after what Yuri just told him there is no way Yuri doesn’t regret kissing him right now.

Yuri hunches his shoulders and burrows deeper into his hoodie. “I don’t know. It just… happened.”

Otabek tugs on the shoulder strap of his bass case and stares at the pavement ahead. There is a wallowing sensation in his stomach that he recognizes as frustration, mixed with a dash of self-pity. Go figure the kisses were just a result of an after-concert high, an unintentional side effect of feeling invincible after a gig. Once the adrenaline wears off the high disappears, and along with it go Otabek’s feelings of joy.

It’s not that he doesn’t understand Yuri’s predicament. He does. The pay in Philly is probably miles away from what Yuri gets paid here, and retirement homes are not free rides so money is an important factor for Yuri. However, understanding the situation doesn’t make it any easier.

Otabek says goodbye as they get to the block where Yuri’s apartment building is located. He doesn’t wait for Yuri’s reply, but turns and walks off to the nearest bus stop. It’s strange how he can feel like he’s on top of the world one second and next second he’s buried in the lowest trench.

Well, he was hoping for something more than friendship, and for a few blessed moments he had it. Now he’s not sure if he has anything, except for a hollow sense of disappointment deep in his gut.

 

-

 

“I gotta say, his mood swings are pretty extreme,” Leo says two days later in the rehearsal space. Otabek has had a full two days to sit at home and think about everything, so he congratulates himself on not flinching at the words or the sight of Yuri. Yuri storms across the rehearsal space without looking at anyone and all but throws his folder of sheet music on the floor.

“You’re telling me,” Otabek mutters under his breath.

“So what happened there?” Leo looks curious.

Otabek feigns ignorance because he’s not in the mood to deal with this right now. “How would I know?”

“Well, you left with him after the concert,” Leo remarks.

“Well I sure as hell didn’t spend two days with him,” Otabek says. He can’t keep the bitterness out of his tone. “I walked him home after the concert and left. That’s it.”

Leo looks disbelieving. “Right.” He doesn’t push it, though, and Otabek is grateful for that.

They fall quiet as Lilia walks in.

“The arts section of the local newspaper praised our opening night sky-high,” Lilia says. “But that’s no excuse to get sloppy, because we need to do it all over again for three nights in a row this week.”

Otabek glances at Yuri and finds him chewing his lip thoughtfully as he stares blankly at his sheet music. Yuri looks distracted but manages to come through with a flawless performance throughout the practice. Otabek wishes he could say the same for himself. He’s bad enough to warrant a glare from Lilia at one point, and beside him Leo is picking up his slack. Leo glances at him every now and then and Otabek can tell Leo knows something is up.

Once the practice is over Otabek doesn’t remember most of it. He feels like a wind-up mechanism inside a shell, playing through the expected movements without much emotion or thought. When Lilia dismisses them after telling them to rest up before the back-to-back performance days, Otabek is among the first to leave. He hurries to the bus stop and the next bus arrives almost immediately, which is good because now he doesn’t have to force himself to not look back to catch a glimpse of Yuri exiting the rehearsal space.

They have fewer practices now that they have concerts lined up, which is a good thing and a bad thing.

It’s a good thing because Otabek doesn’t have to pretend to not notice how Yuri is pretending to not notice him.

It’s a bad thing because he can stay at home and it gives him a whole lot of time to think.

 

-

 

The next three performances go by. Yuri keeps ignoring him and Leo keeps pestering him and Otabek is very close to catching a fake case of pneumonia to get out of this mess for a few days.

Every time he sees Yuri it feels like there is an invisible clock ticking above Yuri’s head. Otabek is not sure if the seconds are counting down to sadness or relief. Right now it’s leaning toward relief, because the passage of time guarantees that in less than four months he can stop holding his breath every time he steps foot into the rehearsal space or the concert hall. At the same time, there is a distinct sting somewhere in his ribcage every time he thinks about looking up and _not_ seeing Yuri’s blond tousle of hair across the room.

He tries his damnedest to look away but his traitorous eyes keep wandering back to Yuri. Every now and then he catches Yuri looking up and for a brief moment when their eyes lock, Otabek can read Yuri's thoughts on his face. It’s the most depressing feeling in the world to know they both want this but a wall as wide as the Atlantic Ocean is standing between them.

“Maybe you should talk to him?” Leo suggests during a rehearsal break, six days after the concert opening night.

Otabek startles. “Huh?”

Leo rolls his eyes. “I mean, it was annoying watching you two eye-fuck each other across the room, but it was _better_ than watching you two looking at each other like you’re Romeo and Juliet and all the Montagues and Capulets are keeping you apart.”

Otabek huffs. “Whatever.”

“You’re Juliet, by the way,” Leo adds.

Otabek turns to gape at him. “How am I Juliet?”

“I just get a better mental image of you hanging out on a balcony declaring your love I guess,” Leo says and his eyes twinkle mischievously.

“Thanks a lot,” Otabek mutters.

“No problem, Juliet.”

The banter is cut short by Otabek’s appointed Romeo walking past the bass section. There is a slight falter in his step as if he wants to stop by like many times before, but instead he keeps walking and leaves the room.

“Maybe you should go after him,” Leo suggests. “ _O Romeo, Romeo_ ,” he chimes in with an exaggerated high pitch in his tone and punctuates his declaration with kissy noises.

Otabek shoves him in the shoulder and Leo ducks away laughing.

“Yes, because he probably went to the bathroom and the best love confessions are proclaimed over a urinal,” Otabek deadpans.

Leo doubles over in laughter. “Well at least you’d get points for originality?” he says.

Otabek stares at the door that’s swung shut after Yuri. He wishes it were as simple as confessing his feelings, but Yuri already knows about that and it changes or fixes exactly _nothing_ about their current situation. The stinging sensation that lives in his chest is spreading into a dull ache, but it’s too early to say if the pain is getting better or worse. Maybe if he waits it out it will eventually go away.

When Yuri comes back he marches directly to Lilia and starts talking to her in a low tone. One of Lilia’s eyebrows arches up but other than that nothing in her expression changes. When Yuri ends the conversation and goes back to his spot, Lilia looks thoughtful for a moment and then calls out that the break is over.

After practice Otabek tries to make a beeline for the door, but he’s stopped by Yuri stepping in front of him. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” Otabek says cautiously.

Otabek glances around. Yuri’s violin is on his chair and his sheet music is on the floor beside the chair like he hurried to catch Otabek. People filing out of the room cast curious glances in their direction. Half of the orchestra is probably following this whiplash soap opera, waiting to see either a fight or a kiss. Otabek is pretty sure Leo and Guang Hong are taking bets by the door.

“Wait, I’ll go get my stuff.” Yuri goes back to his chair and starts gathering his belongings. He takes his sweet time with it, arranging his sheet music in his folder with uncharacteristic care, and it’s only when Lilia herds the rest of the orchestra out of the room as she leaves that Otabek realizes Yuri’s movements are deliberately as slow as possible.

The room feels very quiet with just the two of them inside. Otabek stands still, holding the neck of his bass case and waits for Yuri to walk over to him. For a moment they stand face to face, watching each other in silence.

“It’s difficult being the one everyone wants to play with them. Or play _for_ them,” Yuri begins. Coming from anyone else it would sound like bragging, but Yuri states it like truth because it _is_ the truth. Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t have a shortage of job offers and he knows it just as well as Otabek does.

“Financially, it would make the most sense to move to Philadelphia,” Yuri says.

Otabek nods.

“But I mean…” Yuri’s eyes slide down until he’s looking at the floor. “Being here is good too. For a multitude of reasons.”

Otabek doesn’t venture to ask but he’d like to think he’s one of the reasons.

“I’ve been shitty to you for the past, uh, I don’t know how many days,” Yuri says. It’s not an apology in words but it definitely is one judging by Yuri’s tone of voice.

Otabek finds his own voice again. “You said they want you in Philly. But what about you? What do _you_ want?”

Yuri’s eyes wander across the space and he keeps twirling a strand of hair around his finger. “I always wanted to play music. There was never anything else I wanted.”

Otabek keeps looking, because sometimes with Yuri it feels like if he doesn’t keep staring, Yuri is going to disappear in mid-sentence. “And now?”

“Now I think I can have all I ever wanted right here.”

It takes a few seconds for the message to be deciphered in Otabek’s brain. “You’re staying?” he asks, even though there is no other explanation for what Yuri said.

Yuri finally looks at him. “Yeah. I can stay close to Grandpa and help him out. And, uh, I think I owe you a date, because I’ve been shitty. You know.” Yuri squirms.

“A date or three.”

Yuri blinks. “What?”

“Three dates at least,” Otabek says. “That’s how shitty you’ve been.”

“Well it’s not like you’ve been actively trying to talk to me either,” Yuri defends.

“Make it four,” Otabek says and raises one eyebrow, amused. Yuri gets worked up easily, and as fun as it would be to watch him squirm while the date count climbs higher, Otabek lets him off the hook. “Look, I thought you were leaving. You said you didn’t want to start anything when things were uncertain. You clearly regretted kissing me—”

“No.” Yuri cuts Otabek off with a single word. “No, I didn’t.”

Otabek gives him a disbelieving side-eye.

“I wanted to do it, so I did. And it was awesome. But then I started thinking, _oh god what if I have to leave in four months, I can’t start anything now_ , and then I started explaining it to you and it all came out… well, like it did.” Yuri sighs. “I’m not good with words, but I’ll play you a fucking ballad if that helps.”

A warm sensation spreads in Otabek’s chest. “Yeah, I think it might help,” he says.

“You’ll get one for each date,” Yuri promises. “And they will be cheesy as hell.”

Otabek is more than okay with that.

After two months of dancing around the subject, one unfortunate side step of a kiss and some promises later, Otabek finally feels like his feet are on solid ground again.

And then they’re lifted off once more when Yuri kisses him. It’s nothing like the first kiss that was like a dam breaking, and nothing like the second one that was all about slow exploration. This third kiss is full of promises, like Yuri is using the physical connection to say all the things he can’t express in words: _I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere._

 _Promise?_ Otabek asks silently against Yuri’s lips.

_Promise._

**Author's Note:**

> So this was kind of cheesy and silly and whatnot. I'm clearly trying to make Hallmark movie fics my trademark or something. :'D  
> -  
> Thanks to my beta [thoughtsappear](https://thoughtsappear.tumblr.com/) for holding my hand throughout this process.


End file.
